On the Shores of Eire, a Hetalia Tale
by TheVenusianAlchemist
Summary: A series I've begun about an OC, Ireland.Starts off a little slow, with just the OC, but other characters will come to take the limelight.I tried to have it keep historical value, set up a good character and play to other characters with minimal Mary-Sue.
1. Prologue: Mother Eire

I was born, my mother said, the day St. Patrick came to Ireland, and that all the snakes left for fear of us both. That was the day, in the 5th century AD, that Christianity began to take root in this land. My mother was of an older breed, one who believed in faeries and goddesses. She said that Ireland was changing, becoming something else, and that's why I was born. I promised myself then, seeing how sad her deep, indigo eyes looked under tired, heavy lids, that I would never forget the old ways she taught me, and that I would make sure my people always remembered them. She taught me the ways of the seasons, and of the Eight Sabbats; she taught me about the Tuatha De Danann. Unfortunately, even though I could see how sad she was that her life was slipping into the unknown, I was just a child and over the years I forgot some of what she told me. Those stories are left to the ages.

During that time, my mother taught me a lot about farming. Our country was particularly suited for it. She also taught me the ways of battle, for she said that wicked invaders from across the sea would oneday come and try take me over. Our country was divided as well, and she said that I may need to lend my strength to some men who would like to become the High King over all of Ireland. This was my duty, to honor the blood of the Celtic people who had come over to this land long before my birth. My mother warned me of a great enemy, The Roman Empire, who she had escaped before by coming here. Her stories about him made the fighting in my own country seem tame by comparison. He seemed to be a frightening man, whose power knew now bounds. My mother said his blood ran deep in the Saxons nearby and that only a few waves separated them from me. She would come at me with her single-hand blade and usually knock me on my ass. She could see I wasn't as strong as her, and I think it disappointed her.

My mother was a strong woman, whose pride was rivaled only by her skill in battle, but I lacked the experience to understand. Day after day we trained, and day after day I failed to understand anything beyond the basics. I didn't have the fight in me; after all, I knew nothing of these invaders which seemed to upset my mother so much. I had heard of England and the Scots, and even the French, but if any representatives from those nations came around, Mother Eire dealt with them. I was too young to realize how little time my mother had left to teach me these things, and I was too stubborn to realize how little I knew. I spent most of my days lazing about on the conical hills, disregarding when my mother called to me to train. I would watch the clouds roll by as her voice echoed between the valleys, and quiver to myself, afraid what scrapes I might receive from another day of training. I would hide for minutes, or even hours, but Mother Eire always found me. She knew the island so well.

Usually when she found me, Mother Eire would spend half a day lecturing me on the dangers of invasion before making me complete my training well into the night before letting me have supper. She was a real hard ass. On this lovely, sunny day with cool, air wafting against my face, I expected to see an angry mother with one hand on her hip and the other in my face ready to tell me how shortsighted I was being. Yet that wasn't the case today; when she found me she looked worried, and then a strained smile came to her face. She sat down next to me and wrapped her long arms around me in silence, drawing my head softly into her bosom. Not expecting this kind of positive attention, my emerald drop eyes widened as I blushed. I raised my wide eyes to meet her soft, half-lidded gaze.

"You're not mad, M`athair*?" I asked. Despite myself, I found tears of joy welling up in my eyes. Displeased with myself already for exhibiting weakness in battle, I quickly went to brush away these tears and pushed myself away from my mother, hoping she wouldn't see.

"My, my, In'ion*," she said with a light trickle of laughter falling from her honeysuckle voice, "What has you so upset?"

My back still turned and the back of my hand furiously attempting to brush away what seemed like the Eas AoidhRuadh, and my hiccupping voice answered back in a shout that surprised even me . "Just leave me alone, I'm a failure! I just-" I turned then and threw myself back into her arms, "I just wish I could be strong like you, but I'm not, I'm a failure!"

As I moved my head back and forth in her breast, screaming and crying, my mother looked more surprised at me than I ever think I saw. After a moment of my clinging onto her maiden dress, she smiled and unclasped my chubby, tiny fingers with her own slender appendages and rolled me into a hug in her lap, completely surrounded by her warmth. My crying faded into struggled hiccups and snot as I tried to hold her closer. She placed my head against her cheek and began to speak in the way that she did when she had something important to say. "You are strong in a different way, my daughter. You lack the experience with foreigners for me to expect too much from you, and one day you will find a great warrior to help you who will rival all of Europe. I am confident that in your hands Ireland will become a great and unified nation."

I begin to cry harder at this and attempted to push away from Mother again, but she only laughed and held me closer. "You're m-mean!" I strangled out, "Saying that is just like saying I'm not strong!"

"Well, you're not very strong, young daughter," she said and ignored the wail of noise I let out in protest, "But-" she said this with raised voice and I quieted, meeting her loving gaze with tear-filled eyes, "You will be." With this, she rested my head against her once more and stood up, walking towards the coastline. When we got there, she sat me next to her and we watched the ocean in silence.

After several minutes, and when I had calmed down for the most part, I was feeling rather grumpy and upset that my mother would dare admit I lacked something in battle. So rather than appreciate the sound advice I had received or enjoy the calming seas, I began to fidget in my seat and crossed my arms. "This is stupid," I grumbled, "Why are we staring at the ocean?"

My mother didn't answer, but I could see her eyes drop. Not moments before they had so much light and life within them, and with my question it was if the dead had taken over my mother's body. Suddenly, I wasn't in the mood to fight with her, as I could see she knew something dire and was trying to protect me from it. So instead I placed a small, chubby hand on hers and stared into the ocean with her, until the sun set into a bed of pinks and orange. Only once the moon had risen did my mother finally sigh a breath of weariness and stand. Turning to me, the light returned again to her eyes, she smiled brightly and extended her hand. "Let's go home, In'ion."

For a moment I thought maybe I had grown up a little bit, but I stood there in awe for a moment, just staring at my mother. She was so big and strong and wise, and in that moment I thought my mother would protect me forever. I smiled and closed my eyes in happiness as I took her hand in my mind. "Okay, mother!" I said with a laugh in my voice, "Let's go home!"

·  
>M'athair and In'ion are Gaelic for Mother and Daughter,<br>respectively. The comma actually goes above the "a" and "i" and not before it,  
>but I don't know how to do that.<p>

·  
><em>Eas Aoidh Ruadh <em>is  
>a large waterfall in county Donegal.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1: Off the coast

It was the 9th century when the Vikings invaded. When first their sails came over the horizon, my mother stopped our lesson and told me to retreat while she spoke to the foreigners. I was afraid, and began to run home, but became curious on my way and returned. I hid myself in an enclave of rocks which scattered like bones across the sandy coast. My child self looks silly in my mind's eye as I look back upon that day; I was a quivering heap hiding in the shadows, pretending I was brave.

The tallest of the men had light blonde hair and blue eyes which shone brighter than the sky. He wore a helm of what looked like bull's horns and carried with him a young boy, about my age, who slept soundly on his chest. Surely he could not be so menacing.

With him were a pair of younger boys, about teen aged. One had violet eyes and soft blonde locks, pinned together with what appeared to be a cross. The other had wild hair, like he had been struck by lightening, and had eyes the color of the ocean waves at twilight. He was smiling, while the other was not.

Lastly was a young boy, not much older than me, who looked disturbed to be standing on the coast with the other four. He shook a little, and I had a feeling he was not entirely equal partners with the other three. His hair was like cornsilk and his eyes were pale irises. All in all, they were a very light complected group. Blonde hair was not common in our land, and only recently had red tresses begun to appear in the north.

Behind the men who stood out front was a large group of giant men, rowing canoes in from a much larger ship. They were ornately covered in what appeared to be dragons and salamanders, and most the men wore large helmets shining in the sun. They carried large shields, almost the size of their own bodies, and an array of weapons. Their long beards were splayed with red and blonde, their eyes blue; they looked so different and this was frightening to me.

My mother spoke with them for awhile, but I could not hear their words. She seemed angry, angrier than I had ever seen her. What I found most disturbing was the boy with the wild hair seemed to have no problem talking to my mother, despite his youth. The large one scared me a little, but he looked so innocent with that baby in his arms and the other young one at his side. The frowning teen at least seemed calm, but this wild boy was really starting to get on my nerves. How I wished I new what they were saying!

Suddenly, the boy pulled out an axe he'd had strapped to his belt! I couldn't believe it! My mother grasped her broadsword and held it firm. I silently cheered for her in my heart but it was obvious within the first few blows that this boy had the upper hand. I cringed from behind the rock every time steel hit steel and made that horrible noise. My mother looked impressive, but even against this one boy alone she was losing ground. After a few moments, he pushed her to the ground with the staff of the axe and she fell, dropping the sword out of reach behind her. She laid there, eyes fixed upon her sword, but his axe came down two inches above her face in warning.

Suddenly, I felt an anger inside of me I never felt before. In that moment, with a flash of lightning which boiled my blood, I understood what my mother meant by "invaders" and "foreigners". Who the hell did these people think they are? With nary a thought for my safety or the plausibility of victory, I burst forth from the enclave and ran at them, furiously shouting in my Irish tongue.

"Grace, what are you doing?" shouted my mother from beneath the boy's blade, using my rarely spoken given name. I ignored her and grabbed at the boy's naked arm, pulling him away unsuccessfully.

"Go away, go away!" I shouted as tears formed behind my lids, "Leave my mother alone!" I pulled hard and slid back, falling on my butt. I felt the only thing I could do was get back up and pull harder, as I saw the twisted look of bemusement and sorrow in my mother's indigo eyes. She closed them and half smiled as I made my stand, but they twisted back into anger and fear as the boy picked me up by the back of my dress. Then he spoke to me in Latin, much to my surprise.

"Are you the new country who's beginning to take over? We heard of you from France. I'm Denmark, the King of Northern Europe!" He smiled then, a half-cocked grin of pure arrogance. He turned me, suspended in the air by the cloth about my waist, to face my mother laying on the ground. "Your mother just lost. The Vikings are taking over your ports."

I stared into my mother's gaze, imploring for a truth other than this. She met my gaze solidly, and did not turn away, but I could tell by her expression that there was no more truth in the world. "Now go home," barked Denmark, the self-proclaimed King of Northern Europe, "Enjoy you're last night together, because tomorrow the little one comes to work in our vacation home we've built here." He jerked his thumb towards the surly boy and the giant man bearing children. "One of us three will always be here to look over it." He smiled large to finalize his statement with "We'll take turns!"

He dropped me on the sand disgracefully and wiped his hand on his leg like I was a piece of trash. My mother leaned forward and took me in her arms, her venom spewed in her vision at the unmoving giants. "Devils," she spoke to them in Latin, but Denmark only grinned that annoying grin.

"We try."

At home that night, in Leinster, we sat together in our modest home. She held me in her lap as I cried, for I knew what the rules of being a country where and so did she. Mother Eire would remain, to fuel the ancient flames of a race long before me, and having endured many invasions before me, but as the beginning of a new country, I would have to comply with the international order. She was Gaelic and Celtic and Iberian; these were the times of Roman Empires and Germanias. Now was the time of Denmark. I would live with the Vikings and Mother Eire may very well disappear, going to that strange purgatory that older countries go when New World Orders begin. Sometimes they could escape this fate by living with a brother or a sister who does well to preserve their ethnic identity, but Mother Eire had been alone since she came to this island and had no one to help her.

I, too, was unsure of my fate. Mother Eire had told me that sometimes young countries are born and never grow up to be adults, or go to live with other countries until their imprint simply "fades away". This was more rare, but young countries were subject to the wheels of fate as well. As that night faded into a faerie-filled slumber, I began to wonder if the Vikings would make my mother and I disappear.

The next morning no words were spoken as my m'athair sent me to live with the Viking group. I packed with me a small bag, with soda bread and boiled eggs, an extra cloak and a very small harp meant for children to learn on. My mother walked me to the edges of Munster, then left me to find Cork on my own. Our last moment was painful.

She walked me to the edges of the land and I could see her energy dropping as she and I got closer. I, too, walked slower the closer we came to our point. I knew our destinies would be forever changed, and I was still only a child. Modern Ireland grew from a Druidic culture, and the coming of St. Patrick along with Christianity had allowed my birth. Still, we lacked in the strength of our old ways, and I found myself wondering whether Mother Eire might have lived longer if the people had been stronger, like in the days of old. If I had been stronger. I was 400 years old, maybe 500, and I was still a child.

When we reached the border, or somewhere around it, my mother stopped walking and I did too. I had been holding her hand and I squeezed it, holding it for just a second longer. Then I turned to her and smiled, trying to hold the tears back in my eyes by closing them. "Well, Mother, goodbye! I'm off to become strong, you know?"

I opened my eyes, surprised my mother had leaned forward and wrapped me in her arms tightly against her. She was sobbing, harder than maybe I ever had. I could not hold back and, as my eyes quaked and the tears grew larger, I mumbled, "No fair, you're supposed to be strong!"

She pulled me away and smiled at me, her tears suddenly dry as if by magic. "Ireland, my dear daughter Eire. You are the strong one now. I'm not much longer for this world, but I promise you, the Vikings will not remain in our land for long. After I lend my strength to this final effort, I will come and find you."

She brushed her finger on my nose and smiled then. She pressed her forehead on mine and kissed me once or twice. She smelled like clover and water. Finally, she let me go and stood erect, standing so much taller than me. "Goodbye, daughter Eire," she said with a sad smile, "I love you."

For a moment, I took her image in so to burn it in my heart. She stood tall and slender, with skin the color of fresh cream and eyes the color of the night during a full moon in summer. Her hair waved around her in raven brown tresses, looking cleaner than the hairs on the finest bull. Such beauty may never be seen in Europe again. As I thought of this, I sucked in a deep breath. I let it out, with a yell of "I will return, Mother!" as I spun around quickly and ran towards Cork, "And I will be strong!"


	3. Chapter 2: In the House of Vikings

I, Ireland, made my way to the home the Vikings had created so quickly on her coast in Cork. I marveled at their ingenuity, and how quickly these things kinds of things came about, as I knocked on the big, oak door. It burst open with triumph and I fell backwards, which seemed to happen a lot those days. I looked up to see the young man, Denmark, staring at me with a quizzical look. "Oh, you, eh? I forgot about you."

I puffed my cheeks as I stood up again. "What, so I can leave then, right?"

Denmark smiled wide. "Nah," he said and opened the door wider, "You can come in. You can serve our drinks." I hesitated as a tremble went through me. He frowned and closed his eyes with a squint of confusion. "What's the hold up, eh- oh, what was your name, again?"

I frowned again. I couldn't believe this kind of guy was taking over my country. "I'm Ireland, or Eire, in my tongue." I wasn't quite known as the Republic, yet. Denmark and I were speaking Latin, as was the way of Europeans to broke the language barrier between small and unknown dialects, though I had a feeling people knew how to speak this guys language.

"Ireland's fine," he said dismissively and then grew impatient, "Come in, I'm not holding this door open all day, you know."

I stepped inside onto the earthen floor and saw only the other teenager in the room. Anticipating my confusion, Denmark walked behind me, put his hands on his hips and pronounced. "Sve is gone with Finland now. Isu-kun is sleeping. You can just start by cleaning or something. I don't feel like drinking right now."

"Are you even old enough to drink?" I asked, without thinking about how he was supposed to be my new boss. I was curious, without thinking that countries took so long to grow.

"Ha!" he said with that obnoxious grin, "No one from our place is ever too young for a drink!"

The other boy didn't even look up from the table, staring mysteriously into nothingness. I felt suddenly very alone in the company of these boys, wondering what Mother was doing now. I could not allow this to bother me, however, and Denmark wasn't as scary as I thought. Or at least, not at that moment. He wasn't over the top friendly, either, and I found as he showed me what cleaning he wanted me to do that he really did expect me to serve him.

"Here", he said and handed me an empty bucket and a sponge. "Go get some water or something and you can clean up."

"But the nearest water is the ocean!" I squeaked. He put his hand on my head and pushed down a little bit.

"I didn't ask you to talk back, you know. Oh, and don't run away," he said as he lifted his hand and turned away, "Or I'll find your ma and kill her."

I trembled and headed out the door, looking sideways at Norway as I left. He still hadn't moved since I came here. He was a little creepy.

It wasn't far to the ocean; Cork was a harbor, after all. The major problem was not getting the water, but getting it back to the rounded house. I was still pretty little. I wore a simple druid's robe and it's white skirt was covered in dust by the time I returned, having been consistently unable to lift it as I stepped all over it. I was on the verge of cursing by the time I returned, but to make matters worse, Denmark just looked at me as I came back. "Oh, yeah," he said and squinted his eyes. "I wondered where you went. I had to get my own drinks, I was starting to get pretty mad."

"Whaa?" I asked and froze for a second before pursing my lips in frustration. "You told me to go! I should have just ran away if you didn't remember where I was!"

"If you had done that," he replied in a sing-song voice, "I would have killed your Mother."

They weren't all bad, though. Sometimes, when Sve and Finland came around I would play with Finland. He wasn't much older in appearance than I was at the time, though later I would find he took to adulthood much more quickly than I did. Sve as they called him, or Sweden, was really scary and big on the outside, but he did little more than grunt and I soon found him to be little more than an ornament. He seemed to care for Finland very much.

I really liked Isu-chan, Iceland, very much as well. He was very little and hardly spoke, except to Norway he said "older brother" every once in a while. I would find that even though he was smaller than me at the time, he too would come into adulthood more quickly. The laws of countries are strange.

Norway warmed up ever so slightly when he saw me and Isu come along. He told me about the trolls and faeries from his land, which surprised me. I shared with him the stories Mother Eire had told me, and he seemed to enjoy them. I think. He didn't have much of a personality.

"Can you see them?," he asked me one day, "The faeries?"

I laughed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "They aren't real, you know?"

He frowned, as if I had something offensive. "Don't mind her," he whispered and patted the air next to him. "It must be because of her religion."

I walked away from him very confused that day.

The only one who really made me work was Denmark. I relished the days Sve watched the house and found myself dreading the days Denmark returned from which ever country he was bullying next. He had a really big head and didn't listen to my complaints. I found out one, rare day that he was more than just a happy go lucky kind of guy.

They never really let me out of the house much, and it wasn't until a rare day that I was allowed to roam the country with Sve and Fin that I saw the smoking in the distance. I stopped my race with Fin to look around and saw a round tower in the distance. My heart stopped as I realized the monastary was on fire. I just stared for a minute, until Fin came to my side. "What is that, Eire-chan?"

"I-I..." was all I could say as a flash of my mother came into my mind.

Sve had been looking off into the distance and it wasn't until Fin had asked me this that he had begun to pay attention. He came behind us and put a hand on my shoulder in silence. I turned and looked up at him, tears in my emerald eyes, imploring him with my gaze. Was this all their fault? Were they attacking my religion?

"...We are going back, now," he said and took my hand in his.

"No!" I shouted and pulled back, "No, I want to find Mother!" I dug my heels into the ground, but there was no use in fighting against that mountain of a man. I was sniveling by the time we reached the house and knocking my free, tiny fist into the large palm grasped around the hand Sve dragged me by. I protested the entire time, screaming for him to let me go, but he said nothing and had no emotion on his face. Finland walked behind us quietly, and I could tell that he was worried about me.

"Sve," Denmark said when he opened the door, "What's that annoying-oh..."

Sweden shoved me into the house and then let go, causing me to fall onto all fours. Defeated, a let the tears flow freely as I begin to scream. "I w-want t-to g-go home!"

I couldn't see them but I could hear them as they began to talk about me. I just kept repeating myself over and over, eventually throwing a full blown tantrum and kicking my legs.

"What the hell is her problem, Sve? Shut her up!" Denmark barked.

"She saw a monastery being burned..."

"So what? This is our country now, that's not my problem!"

When I heard him say that I felt inside me a fury that felt so alien to my isolated little heart. I felt like I did the day I defended Mother against this creep the first time, but even more powerful. I flipped over and stood on my feet, clenching my jaw and fists. I trembled with rage. "This. Is. Not. Your. Home. Get. Out. Now."

The group turned to me, surprised I had spoken. I could see Fin holding Isu-chan in the corner, obviously disturbed by the show. He cowared a little, waiting for the response. To my dismay, Denmark just began laughing out loud. "What? Not our home?"

Norway and Sweden looked sideways at each other as Denmark began to speak. I'm not sure now if it was just me, but I think they looked like they felt sorry for me. "Sorry, kid," Denmark said as he stepped dangerously close to me and bent over. "Listen, you're cute and all, but this is our country now. We need to expand the empire and everything." He put a hand on my head and began to pet it. "You see, the monastaries have lots of goodies in them, and we want them for our people. So we have to take them, you understand."

I stared at him with a glower. "You're stealing from my people to give to yours?"

"Hey, hey, don't make it sound so bad! I'm giving your people the chance to become part of our people." He opened his eyes and I think he really meant what he said. "We can all become a family!"

I spit in his face.

I hadn't expected to do it. The truth is, I was still really scared of Denmark and I had even grown fond of Finland and Iceland. But the idea of Denmark ravaging my people and converting them into some sort of pagan society really pissed me off. My country was Christian, and had been since my birth. Celebrating the sabbats was still common, sure, but it worked for my people. They didn't need any Scandinavian gods or Viking overlords.

Denmark just stood there for a moment, with my spittle trickling down his face. He looked really surprised. I heard Finland gasp and Sweden grunt. Norway shook his head. "You little-" he said and raised his hand to hit me. I cringed and closed my eyes. I couldn't help it. As badass as I had wanted to look, I was really scared of him. Besides, I was just a little girl.

I was surprised when nothing came down and after a second I opened my eyes. Denmark's hand was still raised, but Sve had moved forward and was holding it back. He was wiping his face with his other hand. Denmark stood up, then, and turned to Sve. "Keep that kid in check," he said with a hiss, "Or I'll kill the brat next time." He glared at me with angry eyes and a devilish grin. "You hear that?"

He left the house, mumbling about getting something to drink. "Dark foreigner...*" I muttered, but not very loudly.

Norway took Iceland from Finland and went into his room. "That was stupid, kid," he said with a deadpan tone as he closed his own door.

Sve looked down on me with that scary look, but I was suddenly more grateful to him than anyone else. My eyes started to well again and I ran into his leg, hugging the tree trunk and bawling, making no thought of the chainmail which rubbed roughly on my cheek. He picked me up in silence and brought me into room. He let me go and I reached out for him, wanting someone to comfort me like my mother would have. "Wait!" I said as he began to close the door, "I'm lonely."

He stopped for a moment, then looked at me. "Denmark has no plans to leave." was all he said as he shut the door and locked it behind him.

It was dark and lonely. I covered my head with the blanket and cried softly. There wasn't even a window so I could look at the moon. After awhile, I heard the door open and shut again before I could remove the cover from my head. When I was done, Finland stood there with a lamp. "I asked Sve if I could sleep with you tonight. You seem lonely, no?"

I smiled weakly. "Fin-chan..."

He set the lamp next to the bed and crawled in with me. I snuggled close, hiccuping between tears. He frowned. "I'm sorry that Denmark can be so scary, but he really isn't all bad."

"I'm running away..."

"...That's a bad idea."

"Don't tell, mmkay?" I said as I started to drift into sleep, "If you promise me, I'll let you and Sve use the Cork harbor for awhile."

"..."

"Promise me..."

"I promise not to tell Denmark..."

"None of them."

"None of them."

"Finland..."

"Yeah..."

"You're my fair foreigner...*"

*Okay, quick history lesson. The Vikings (known as fair foreigners) and the Danes (known s dark foreigners) were actually fighting over Ireland and Iceland was obviously not there yet, since the Norse founded Iceland. However, I didn't want to split the group up. The Danes came later and DID NOT lead the Vikings, but I really just liked putting them together. So sue me.

Oh, and they came and went a few times, but I'm probably going to have Ireland run away to represent the first couple times they kicked em out and have the final battle with Boru be the last. Whoop for Vikings, Sve is a badass, no?


End file.
